


So It Goes

by peacefrog



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode: s10e14 The Executioner's Song, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3349190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacefrog/pseuds/peacefrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This moment always comes too soon. Their time together is never enough.</p><p>So it goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So It Goes

When it’s over, they find themselves leaning against the Impala’s trunk, the blade locked safely inside. Dean is bloodied, bruised, and he’s pretty certain his collarbone is broken in at least two places from the impact of Cain tossing him around like a rag doll.

He’s about to use the one arm he can move, his right, to dig out Sam’s old sling and resign himself to being out of commission for several weeks when Cas places two strong fingers on his forehead. He feels the grace surge through him suddenly, icy lightning in his veins, and in an instant he is made whole again. The only scar that remains is the mark.

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean is all wide eyes and adrenaline thrumming beneath his skin. “You can’t keep burning yourself up for me, man.”

“You were hurt,” he says matter-of-factly, as if he’s not living on borrowed grace and borrowed time at this point. As if every time he uses his precious, fading grace he’s not snuffing himself out that much sooner.

Dean clutches at his forearm. The blade is far too close for comfort. The mark is itching, angry, and the need to wrap his fingers around the hilt, sink it into something, someone, and tear at flesh and bone and watch the blood of whatever is beneath him pool around his ankles is almost too much to bear. 

“You’re dying, Cas.” Dean doesn’t recognize his own voice, hollow and broken, but it’s all he can manage as he tries to sate the bloodlust threatening to overcome him.

He wants to reach out, wrap his hands around Cas’ neck, squeeze until the light pours from his eyes. He wonders if he would let him. He wonders if he would put up a fight. He closes his eyes, fights the urge, balls his hands into fists at his sides and chokes the almost insatiable desire to kill back down again. It rolls over him like waves, sometimes until he feels like he’s drowning. Somehow, someway, he manages to stay afloat even now.

“It’s getting harder to fight it,” Cas says, because it’s not a question now. Dean’s struggle is etched into the lines of his face, into the white knuckles of his fists. It’s in the way he can barely even look Cas in the eyes these days.

“I killed Cain with his own blade,” Dean chokes out. “It feels like it did after Abaddon only…”

Cas steps forward, places his hand gently on Dean’s shoulder. Dean can feel the heat of him even through his jacket. He wants to wrap himself in that warmth, be surrounded by it. He wants to curl into it, live inside of it forever. There’s no time for that now, though. He knows that there will likely never be a time for that.

“I have a plan,” Cas says after a long moment, hand still firmly in place.

Dean has averted his gaze until now, but when he looks into Cas’ eyes, sees him looking back at him like he’s something precious, something to be treasured, he feels the mark calming at once.

“We’ve tried everything there is, Cas.” They stare for a long moment before Dean finally looks away. His eyes linger on Cas’ mouth before his gaze falls to his boots.

“Metatron still might know something, if I can get him to talk I—”

“He won’t.” Dean's mind flashes back to slicing the scribe open, watching the stars pour from inside, and the mark flares up once more.

“He might. If I can convince him I will set him free when it’s over he might.”

“You can’t just—”

“We’re all out of options, Dean.” Cas snaps back.

“This isn’t your problem, Cas.” Dean meets his eyes again, the darkness roiling inside him calms.

“After everything we’ve been through, Dean, how can you even think that?” Cas steps back, puts his hands in his pockets, leans against the trunk once more.

“I’m just saying you should be worried about yourself right now, man.”

“Without you I don’t know what I would—” Cas chokes down the end of his sentence, scuffs at the ground with his shoe. He looks so very human.

And Dean understands it. He does. Those times when he lost Cas, when he lost Sammy, it was like the light was sucked out of his life. He doesn’t know now what he would do without either of them. They have always been so much more than him, though. Their lives matter, he is merely a weapon, and not a very reliable one these days.

He thinks, _maybe you’ll be better off_ , but he doesn’t speak the words. He knows that Cas would protest, and right now he doesn’t need the reminder that he's valued far more than he deserves to be. What he really needs is a drink.

Their bodies gravitate closer, and shoulder-to-shoulder they stand there for seconds, minutes, hours… Dean loses track of time after a while. The night is calm, still, a sharp contrast to the chaos that was taking place in this very spot earlier in the night.

“You should call Sam,” Cas says finally.

Dean knows that Sam is probably worried sick. He left his phone in the car, but he knows there are at least a half dozen missed calls from him at this point. Sam only agreed to stay behind because he knew there was nothing he could do if things got out of hand. Cain could kill him without so much as lifting a finger, and there was no need for all three of them to die tonight.

“Yeah,” Dean replies, shifting his weight even more so that he’s pressed right up against Cas’ side. He knows his brother is waiting, but he would be content to stay like this forever, Cas’ body heat seeping through his clothes, warming him to the bone.

He realizes now that the waves of rage always subside whenever Cas touches him, even with layers of fabric in between them. He wonders what would happen if they crashed their mouths together, kissed until they were breathless.

“I should go,” Cas moves away suddenly. “I’ll put Cain on a pyre somewhere far away from here.”

Dean feels his heart sink, the mark sizzling beneath his sleeve as soon as they break contact. This moment always comes too soon. Their time together is never enough.

So it goes.

“Cas, uh,” Dean nervously rubs at the back of his neck. “Listen, buddy. You need anything, anything at all, you call me or Sam, you hear?”

“Of course.” Cas gives him a small smile. It is enough to make Dean smile back.

Before Cas can turn and walk away, Dean pulls him into an embrace. It’s the closest their bodies have ever been, because this time neither one of them holds back. They squeeze each other tightly, Dean grasping at the back of Cas’ coat, Cas burying his face in the crook of Dean’s neck.

Dean never wants to let him go, but he knows that he must. He wants to taste him on his tongue, but he’s too much of a coward to go through with it. The mark is quieter now than it’s been since it was branded on his arm. He tries to not think too much about what that means right now. He knows that this is not something he can keep.

They part with promises to check in soon, and Dean drives the entire way back to Sam feeling Cas’ warmth still consuming every part of him.


End file.
